Chrestomanci's Castle
by IdleWit
Summary: A lot can happen in an old castle with Christopher, and Throgmorten on the loose. And when Christopher begins to snoop around, pulled by an unbidden call, a villanous plot, and a circus, seem somehow to come together.
1. Prisoner

**CHRESTOMANCI'S CASTLE**

CHAPTER ONE

**PRISONER**

Christopher put down the book with a much exaggerated sigh, Gabriel looked up from his work, his eyebrows raised, a frown on his face.

"If that book is boring you Christopher, do those theory questions I set you," he proclaimed with a grave air and a "I know what's best for you and you'll do it," tone, then preceded back to his work with no delay.

Christopher, ignoring this command as he so artfully did, got up and stretched, then flopping on the chair, his long limbs everywhere in his usual manner he picked up the book again and began to attempt to read it further. Five minutes of reading the same sentence and not taking any of it in at all, determined Christopher resolve that he was not in a reading mood.

Christopher, of course had nothing against books, his particular favorite being the Arabian nights, but there were just some times when you cannot possibly read a book because you just have to do something else, and yet there is nothing else to do. You could be reading the most exciting book, or your favorite torn and ripped, and yet you still cannot seem to take in a word, because all you can feel and hear and almost see is that itching and that urgent feeling that you should get up and do something. Christopher sighed heavily again, because the frustrating thing with this is that for the life of you, you cannot just jump around and start running, or whoop, because there are always restrictions such as rain and colds and don't forget guardians, as in Christopher's case.

These certain restrictions also prevent you from doing the particular thing that will satisfy the itch, and make you perfectly content. As if to remind Christopher of these annoying things he suddenly felt the urgent need to sneeze, he waited, dropping the book on the floor and closing his eyes, but it was just a tickle and disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Christopher sniffled instead, grabbing a silk handkerchief from his pocket he whipped his nose, and then sniffed again.

Gabriel looked up and gave him a dirty look, "Oh just a false alarm," Christopher said, waving his hand and with it his red spotted handkerchief, his vague manner which he knew annoyed Gabriel firmly in place, "Nothing to worry about, just particularly annoying."

Gabriel scowled at him, apparently annoyed, "When I ask you about your cold Christopher you may tell me, but as I have not, keep quiet, this is important and I am trying to concentrate," he said in his dry but snappish tone. He turned back to his work and Christopher made a face at him, not caring that it may be considered childish, and taking distinct pleasure in it. He gave a loud sniff, but when Gabriel did not look up, immersed in his work, he turned back to his immediate problem…the itch.

Christopher, having nine lives, well more accurately having _had_ nine lives, was for some unknown reason to him, and complete frustration of his guardian, more attuned to this feeling then most children. Christopher was fourteen, he had grown even more, and didn't seem about to stop, Christopher was also very headstrong, and didn't like taking orders much when he didn't see the point to them, nor did he like doing things like bowing to people he didn't like, on the same principle. When Christopher got that itching feeling he felt that it was absolutely necessary to see to it, and he didn't see the point not to. This would be a very good attitude, if only Christopher could have applied it to his work, as Flavian often pointed out, but Christopher became artfully deaf whenever he said this, so of course he always did his homework at the last minute, see when it comes to homework there are always excuses.

It had taken Christopher many years to perfect his deafness, and he himself considered it a great art, so he used it whenever he could, especially against Gabriel. So maybe Christopher was especially attuned to this feeling of getting up and doing a jig because it would spite Gabriel, but he never really thought about it, and he would have been extremely smug if he realized that maybe this was another art to add to his many other talents such as vagueness and eccentricity.

As Christopher was lost in thought, immersed in the very odd ideas that sometimes popped into his mind, he noticed the brown streak with a touch of grey, push the door open. There stood Throgmorten, gazing at Christopher reproachfully, he was hungry, and as it was usually Christopher who fed him, the cook often abusing him out of the kitchen, he had come to find Christopher. Christopher, for the first time, had completely forgotten about Throgmorten's meal time. He jerked up suddenly, reminded by the obvious annoyed look on the cats face, and jumped up, knocking an antique vase sitting on the table near his feet.

"Christopher," Gabriel snapped, thoroughly annoyed, he waved his hand and the vase was just suspended in the air. "Can you not, for one day, just sit down quietly for one day and not let your clumsy ways come out."

Christopher, feeling this very injustice, protested. "I just remembered I had to feed Throgmorton," he said, feeling quite hurt at the remark about him being clumsy, he wasn't half as clumsy as Michael, of course he didn't point that particular thing out because Michael was his best friend, along with Millie, and it would be completely disloyal. Michael got into as much trouble as he himself did with Gabriel, so mentioning him would probably remind Gabriel about yesterday, when they had proclaimed they would live in the tree house, as the castle thoroughly mistreated them. Of course it had been Christopher's idea, and when lightening began to strike it was he who had gotten thoroughly wet, as he had to help collect and carry some of the silver cutlery they had brought out with them, back into the castle, which didn't seem so bad after all.

That event had led Christopher to his current predicament, while all the other children, including Michael were taken to the circus that had come to Wolvercotte, by Mordecai and Flavian. Despite the heavy rain, it was well known that the dry spell on the circus top, was extremely well set, and Gabriel had even helped with some of the spells in his younger days, of course he was far too busy now to deal with such trivial things. This, though, had provided permission for the children from Gabriel, beside Christopher, who had a cold. Gabriel instilled that it was too dangerous for him to go out, that young enchanters with no control like Christopher often had sudden bursts of magic when sick, especially colds for some reason, and so they both were forced to spend a very torturous day with each other, as most of the servants had taken leave to go and see the circus. Gabriel demanded that Christopher needed constant supervision, and unlike most, like the castle maids who had taken a liking to Christopher, he disapproved completely of 'molly codling' as he called taking care of a sick child.

If it was not for Miss Rosalie Christopher was sure he would have been given a mountain of questions to do on theory magic, but at least she, Christopher thought with some self satisfaction, recognized a suffering child at the hands of a tyrant when she saw one. As it was Gabriel gave Christopher a choice, if it could be called that, of sitting down and doing some theory homework, or sitting down and reading a book, both to be done quietly.

Despite his inability to use Micheal though, Christopher had something else up his sleeve, which would give him a few spare seconds of peace to work out what to do with the itch and a laugh of course.

"Of course," he said, giving Gabriel one of his vaguest looks yet, "I could just call him here and explain that you won't let me feed him. I don't know how he'll take it…."

He trailed off, enjoying Gabriel's face which had paled considerably, Throgmorten seemed to take distinct pleasure in scratching him, and sometimes forced Gabriel to stay in his office for hours until he demanded Christopher lock him up somewhere or he'd give him away. Christopher had denied completely the allegations that he purposefully told Throgmorten to wait outside Gabriel's door, after all you never told Throgmorten anything, you always asked him. Though Millie had taken Gabriel very seriously and put an avoidance spell on Throgmorten. Christopher pointed out that this was also breaking one of Gabriel's rules, using magic without supervision, but he didn't take it off Throgmorten. After all Gabriel may yell at Millie, but he would not give her away, Christopher was sure of that, and he also loved the ugly bossy cat, no matter what anyone said.

"Go straight down to the kitchen," Gabriel finally snapped, "And come straight back." He waved his hand and what Christopher hoped would happen did. He had now taken off the restriction spell he had placed on the door to keep Christopher in, to insure he wouldn't sneak off.

"No really, I can call him here if you want," Christopher said, thoroughly enjoying himself and in no hurry, "Throgmorten," he called.

Throgmorten looking highly affronted gave a loud WONG, which was not what Christopher had expected, he quickly sprang from his chair and ran out the door, Throgmorten at his heels as there came a loud crash from behind them. Christopher laughed as he quickly slipped down the banister, Gabriel had forgotten all about the vase and had gotten such a shock from Throgmorten he had lost his forgotten hold on it. Christopher was finally free, at least until Gabriel decided to chase after him, and by that time Christopher was resolved he would take care of the itch, but first he would take care of lunch.

_**This is my first Chrestomanci fic, hope you enjoyed, please review : p**_

_Sairra : P_


	2. Sardines and Chicken

CHAPTER TWO

**SARDINES AND CHICKEN**

Christopher entered the large kitchen, usually so full but now empty and dull, the rain's pattering the only sound that could be heard. He headed straight for the pantry, taking Throgmorten's usual plate of tuna and sardines cook always made only because Christopher devoted a whole day to beg her, using all his charm. He also grabbed the platter of left over chicken, his stomach rumbling its queue that it wanted some feeding.

Throgmorten tangled himself with Christopher's legs, but Christopher, with many years of practice under his belt, managed to avoid falling over, and having at least _his _lunch ruined.

He took off the plates covering and put it on the floor for the purring Throgmorten, who sounded a lot like a motor engine, and then he grabbed two slices of cut bread and some butter and proceeded to make himself a chicken sandwich, the next best thing for a sick person to chicken soup. After he had finally made the most stuffed sandwich in the history of time, he replaced the platter with the small remains of the chicken, and sat down to eat.

Christopher hadn't realized how horrible a cold could be until he began to eat. His throat felt raw and closed, so it made it quite difficult to swallow, he couldn't breathe while he was swallowing, and all the time he kept sniffing. His head hurt horribly so he decided to take a break and concentrate on something else beside the sandwich. He looked down at Throgmorten, who was devouring the pile of sardines and tuna, and then quickly turned away, he had never been able to eat fish since the mermaids, he could hardly _smell_ it without thinking of those wet oddly shaped packages he had actually _handled_. Luckily he had a blocked nose, which was it's one and only blessing. He quickly put down his sandwich and grabbed his handkerchief as he felt the tickling in his nose, then it finally came.

"ACHHOOO," it seemed loud and very violent as cold sneezes were. Christopher felt something wrench inside him, a feeling that was quite strange.

"Wong," Throgmorten protested, standing back and giving Christopher a reproachful look for disturbing him from his meal.

"Sorry," Christopher said, "I really couldn't help it." He put away his handkerchief as Throgmorten went back to his feast.

He picked up his sandwich, looked at it, and took a half hearted bite, deciding to have another go at eating. Christopher quickly dropped his sandwich for the second time, turning a green colour he ran to the bin and spat out the mouthful, retching a bit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, not even thinking, as he usually did, if it would leave a stain on the immaculate cloth, and looked over at Throgmorten. Throgmorten was devouring the last couple of mouthfuls of white chicken meat; he licked the plate clean and looked up at Christopher.

"Wong," he declared, not at all concerned about the change, after all chicken _was _delicious, and it was nice to have a change sometimes.

Christopher approached the sandwich tentatively, still a bit green, and using the knife he had spread the butter with, turned over the bread. Underneath was the mixture that Throgmorten had been eating a moment ago, sardines and tuna.

Christopher quickly moved away from it, feeling quite sick and a completely different way, it had nothing to do with his throat, but rather his stomach.

"I hate when he's right," he groaned, holding his stomach and leaning against a counter.

"Wong," Throgmorten rubbed himself against Christopher, quite contented with his magically swapped meal.

"It must have been that wrenching feeling," Christopher said absently, then he looked down at the furry motor at his feet. "I'm glad _you_ enjoyed it," he said sarcastically. Throgmorten returned it with a satisfied and completely unsympathetic look.

"Wong," he replied and Christopher could have sworn he was almost smug.

**Hope you liked, please review : p **

**Thanks to Blue Yeti, for the advice and critique, I appreciate it, and am trying to better my writing, so thanks. : p (I'm not really sure if I'm any better, but I try lol) : p**

**Sairra : p**


	3. The Secret Tower

CHAPTER THREE

**The Secret Tower**

After washing his mouth out with some milk and chocolate biscuits Christopher was ready to address the problem of his itch. Christopher knew Gabriel wouldn't bother him if he kept quiet and out of mischief, frankly Christopher thought rather proudly, that Gabriel was entirely fed up with the adolescences dramatics. He decided the best place to do this would be in the Secret Tower. It was what the children called the room at the top of the tower, which after Christopher's nasty fall, had been repaired. The children now used it as their secret play room, retreating their when they had free time.

Michael and Christopher used it as a room to test the many spells they created, often for practical jokes. Millie used it as a place to retreat and read and the other children used it to have a romp in or practice their magic. Of course the rule against using magic was still in place, but the children managed to ignore it to an extent. Christopher had been the first one to find that they could do small things, without Gabriel noticing. It was the large things that would get them into a mess. And though Christopher and Michael often lamented at the fact that they could not invent louder and larger tricks without these larger spells, they didn't dare bring notice upon them from Gabriel. They had managed however to cast a strong evasion and invisibility spell on the room, so anybody who was not one of the children, such as the staff or even Gabriel, would not notice the room and so not disturb the children's fun.

Christopher climbed wearily up the many steps up to the room, shivering slightly at the cold. Throgmorten was at his heels, acting as a small heater for his legs, but unfortunately the rest of his body remained cold. He supposed he could use magic to heat himself, but it seemed such a sorrowful waste with no one to witness his brilliance, so he decided to suffer bravely.

He finally reached the tower room and opened the door onto a spectacular mess. Toys, books and spells were scattered across the floor. As it had been raining for the past few weeks the Secret Tower had been used as a fort and living area for the children, with a lack of sport and the outdoors to consume their energy. Christopher felt rather forlorn as he picked his way through the mess, the room was empty now, void of the other children, and he did feel rather lonely. He clapped his hands and the fire in the grate lighted, warming up the cold room nicely. He then turned to the window, looking out he saw the rain still pattering hard outside with no thoughts of ceasing. He sighed heavily and looked down at Throgmorten at his feet.

"I am terribly misused you know," he said to the temple cat. Throgmorten gave him a thoroughly unsympathetic look and moved away from his feet to inspect a spell that was discarded upon the floor and which was buzzing slightly. "Why thank you for your concern," Christopher said sarcastically, then turned back the window.

He frowned, the window on a normal day held a spectacular view of the grounds and forest surrounding the castle. Now fogged and the rain beating down upon it this view was somewhat marred, but their was a small flickering light that could be seen blurrily. Christopher quickly moved closer to the window and brushed away the condensation with his hand, squinting he tried to peer through the rain.

"Oh bother," he snapped irately, as the rain blurred his view. He waved his hand impatiently and it cleared from the window like a curtain, allowing him to see slightly better. There it was a light, like a campfire, flickering somewhere in the forest. It wasn't a natural light by all accounts and it let off thick spirals of glowing blue smoke, which was creating a cloud. Christopher frowned and exclaimed absently to himself.

"Now that's odd." He squinted, trying to gain a better view through the glass, but it was no use, he could not see properly across the grounds with the pounding rain between him and the forest. Frowning he was beginning to think about trying to sweep away the rain from here to the forest as he did with the rain immediately near the window. A glint appeared in his eyes as he began to think on the matter and found it would make for a rather interesting experiment. Before he could begin to rise to the challenge, and think about how exactly one would go about stopping the rain, a sneeze took him most violently.

It was one of those sneezes which appear without warning, as violent as a hit across the head. Christopher was looking out the window one moment with calculating eyes, then sneezing most ferociously the next. It would have been bothersome enough with such a violent sneeze, but unfortunately the sneeze was coupled with a large clap of thunder. Now this would have been perfectly fine if the thunder had not been coming from inside the very castle walls themselves.

"Oh bother," Christopher cursed, wiping the water from his eyes and quickly rushing to the door. He almost tripped on poor Throgmorten who had retreated a few steps away from him during the violent sneeze and who now stood with his hairs standing up at the sound of the thunder so close to his domain.

"Bother, bother, bother!" Christopher cursed as he missed Throgmorten by a hairs breath and almost fell down the stairs in the process. He managed to right himself however and quickly pounded down the stairs, Throgmorten hot on his heels and yowling as more thunder could be heard. Christopher skidded on the polished floor at the bottom of the stairs and quickly raced to the door at the end of the corridor, barging through it and into the great domed entrance hall.

He was met with heavy cold rain drops pounding down on him. Spluttering he looked around, extremely dark, black clouds were hanging above his head. Apparently he had managed to bring the rain clouds inside. A large bolt of lightning struck before Christopher could think. It lit up the room and Christopher could see Gabriel slamming through his own door on the other side of the staircase, looking more graver and sterner then ever. Then the light disappeared and Christopher was left in cold pounding darkness. He rather thought he might leave it that way and slink away while Gabriel attempted to disperse the thunderstorm, and so evade the mans wrath. But another strike of lightning dissuaded him from that thought.

The lightning hit right in the middle of the pentagram, arching up in a furious electrical line up to the chandelier. It seemed suspended there for a moment, then there was a loud screech and Christopher watched with wide eyes and Throgmorten curled between his feet, as the great chandelier fell. It seemed to fall so slowly, the lightning seemed to be suspended for an age, then it suddenly disappeared and there was a clap of furious thunder. A loud crash, even louder then the thunder, followed this, a mixture of shattering glass and fallen metal.

"_Oh no, I'm in for it now,"_ was the thought resonating through Christopher's mind as he swept one hand as if drawing a curtain, and the storm clouds quickly parted and disappeared.

Christopher was left with his usually bouncing curls plastered to his forehead, sopping wet and dripping water on the already flooded floor, looking across at an infuriated Gabriel De Witt. The silence stretched on as Gabriel was obviously trying to control his rage enough to talk. Christopher's eyes were darting nervously from his guardian to the hundred year old chandelier, currently shattered in the middle of the pentagram, lying on the bottom of the staircase.

"Christopher," Gabriel finally mustered enough wit to speak in a cold voice, glaring at Christopher most grimly under his bushy grey eyebrows, "What an earth were you THINKING?"

"Well," said Christopher trying to maintain a lofty tone and prevent himself from bursting into laughter, which though the situation certainly did not call for it, was insisting on coming. Gabriel did look a magnificent sight, tiny droplets dripping slowly from his beak like nose. He rather resembled a hawk, wet and undignified and entirely _indignant_. "I would imagine that if I had been _thinking_ about doing this I would have thought that it was altogether terribly too quite and dry in the castle and so the need for some wetness." Despite his sense that he was walking a very thin line between a cold Gabriel and an exploded one he couldn't help the biting sarcasm from raising its head, and so he decided to continue now that he had begun. "After all one does often think about creating thunderstorms in the great hall and then standing in the middle of them."

Before Gabriel could open his mouth to give a biting reply which was sure to begin a row between them laughter drifted in from outside.

"Oh that was brilliant," came a girl's voice which could be recognized as Millies. "Oh Micheal don't you think that was terribly brilliant. I especially loved the lions; imagine putting your head in lion's jaws. I wonder how they do it?"

"I'd rather know how those clowns magicked that fellows pocket handkerchief from him," Michaels voice sounded, "It wasn't any magic I know for sure."

The chatter of the other children could be heard and Flavian's desperate voice trying to calm them down. Then the door was opening and they poured in.

"I say what's all this," cried a startled Michael as he stared down at his shoes which were immerged in water. He lowered the umbrella he was holding and shook it out.

"It smells terrible," exclaimed another child, scrunching up their nose at the strong smell of the rainwater.

The children looked around the flooded great hall with wide eyes, and the shattered chandelier in the middle of the room.

"What on earth," Flavian began wading through the water, then he looked up the staircase and spotted the livid Gabriel and the rather sullen Christopher. "Oh," he said in understanding, his mouth twisted between amusement and annoyance. "What's he done now?"

"Christopher seemed to decide," said Gabriel dryly, "That it would be _fun_ to bring the thunderstorm _indoors_."

Michael grinned at Christopher, with a look that obviously said he thought it was brilliant. Millie looked half way between amused and disapproving. And Charles, a rather tubby chap, was sniffing terribly, obviously not finding any of it amusing. The rest of the children ranged from amusement, to disbelief to annoyance.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Gabriel sniffed, turning to Christopher, thinking that the most appropriate punishment would be public humiliation. All eyes turned to Christopher, but frankly Christopher had never been nervous of the public eye, he rather reveled in it. He stood up straighter and brushed his sopping hair from his eyes.

"Oh well," he said in his most dry tone, putting on a grave look and impersonating Gabriel quite well, "That wasn't exactly what I had been trying to do, being interrupted by a sneeze, but I'll be sure to get it right next time. After all practice and concentration are the keys."

Gabriel's face turned an ugly puce colour as the children hid giggles behind their hands.

**Sorry it took so long thanks to people who have reviewed. I don't know this chapter seems rather lacking, tell me what you think. **


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